


To Be Admired

by FreshBrains



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Community: femslash_today, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, F/F, Office, POV Andrea, Post-Movie(s), Public Nudity, Situational Humiliation, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 02:51:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5317706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy just sits and smiles, body glowing with arousal, waiting for someone to come in and see what she’s still willing to do for Miranda Priestly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be Admired

**Author's Note:**

> For the LJ femslash_today [Cold Snap: Winter 2015 Porn Battle](http://femslash-today.livejournal.com/620853.html) prompt: _The Devil Wears Prada, Andy/Miranda, display._

“Ah,” Miranda says, or more like _purrs_ , her mouth hardly moving as she makes a noise of disproval. She glances up over the edges of her glasses. “Did I _ask_ you to keep your eyes on the hallway like a lap-dog?”

Andy feels her face burn impossibly redder from where she’s sitting on one of Miranda’s office chairs next to the door. She opens her mouth to speak, to snap, to tell Miranda she’s not her assistant anymore—she’s an _employee_ of Runway now, a staff writer, someone who may take orders from Miranda Priestly but is no longer at her beck and call. But she closes her mouth, choosing to remain silent.

Miranda nods, that pleasant half-smile crawling to her lips. She shuffles through a stack of mock-ups on her desk, her gaze lingering on each glossy page. “I spend my life looking at beautiful things,” she says, and if she was a different woman, there would be a compliment in there— _the most beautiful by far is_ you _, Andrea_ or _but your beauty can hold my attention much longer_ , but instead, she just continues sorting through the pages.

“Do you like that?” Andy finally says, voice gravelly with a mix of anger and arousal. She can feel everything in the room—the coolness of the AC makes her arms and legs break out in goose-bumps and her nipples harden, the carpet is scratchy on her bare feet, the chair is too hard and sleek against her wet, swollen cunt. “Do you like the idea of someone coming in and seeing me like this?”

“Not necessarily,” Miranda says, organizing the pages in an order only she knows is perfect. Her voice is light and dry. “In fact, it makes me irrationally…” she pauses, lips pursed, “ _possessive_. The idea of others looking at the parts of you that are _mine_.”

“Then why?” Andy could ask herself the same thing—why do you do it? Why do you fold your clothes and stack them on her desk, your La Perla and silk panties right on top for anyone to see? Why do you sit naked next to the open door where you can hear Serena sipping coffee at her desk down the hall? Why do you ask ‘how high’ when she tells you to jump, even after all this time?

“Because,” Miranda says, arching an eyebrow, “I can.” Her face betrays nothing—no lust, no passion. But it’s there, simmering beneath the cool façade. It _has_ to be there, or Andy wouldn’t be in the chair.

Andy exhales, the fight leaving her body. Her clit throbs between her legs, but if she grinds her knees together to ease the ache, Miranda will make that displeased noise, and no matter who Andy is or what she writes or who she works for, she’ll always want to please Miranda. “My article is on page twelve,” she says, nodding to the stack of papers.

“I know,” Miranda says. “It needs to be on page sixteen, after the summer Prada campaign.”

Andy agrees. She knew Miranda would say that, she _planned_ for it. Nobody knows Miranda like her. But she just sits and smiles, body glowing with arousal, waiting for someone to come in and see what she’s still willing to do for Miranda Priestly.


End file.
